Mists of Avalon: Deaths and Reflections
by mistress of weapons
Summary: this is just an alternate ending to the book Mists of Avalon. it was actually part of a report i had to do for my english honors class so i actually and worked hard on it. it was pretty fun to write though. i hope you guys like it. please review


Alternate Ending (starting from page 856)

"_Keep perfectly still and be ready!"_

_She gasped, shrinking back and making herself small in a corner. They were coming at him again; _Lancelet moved quickly and stabbed at the knights fiercely, moving closer and closer to where she crouched in the small corner of the room, hidden from the violence. Gwenhwyfar covered her eyes with her thin hands, wanting to see no more of her lover as a murderer. And it was because of her refusal to look out that she didn't see one of the knights come out in front of her and stand between herself and Lancelet…

"I have no wish to hurt you Gareth," said Lancelet slowly, in a warning tone, "Please get out of my way, now, else I do something I shall regret forever…"

Gareth cried, "Lancelet! Lancelet! How could you do such a thing? I thought you the greatest Companion of Arthur's Round Table. I thought you his greatest friend and ally. Yet you betray him for…for…"

Lancelet warned, "Step aside my kinsman, for I do not wish to kill you– "

"Why?" Gareth cried. "Why? For…that-that evil, beastly demonized harlot of a terrible High Queen!"

"Do not speak thus of my Lady!" shouted Lancelet. His eyes were mad, torn between the love of his life and the little boy who he had knighted himself. He let the madness overcome him, devour his consciousness and good judgment. On impulse, Lancelet thrust Gawaine's sword forward with all the rage inside of him released into that one swift motion, aiming at Gareth's stomach…

And Gareth, hysterical and grief-stricken, not knowing what he was doing, grabbed the frightened Gwenhwyfar by her wrists and flung her between the sword and himself, screaming, "It is she who caused all this! She who brought this once great kingdom into ruin. She is the evil woman who brought shame upon Arthur the High King and you, my dear, dear cousin and friend. If there is anyone in this room who deserves to die, it is she!"

Lancelet, having gone too far into madness and rage and using too much force in his attack, was unable to stop it from coming. He saw the fright in her gray eyes, yet he could not stop it, nor could she have moved away fast enough, for she was too terrified even to scream, but her mouth was open in horror of what she saw before her. Lancelet was shocked, and watched himself in horror as he blasted the sword into Gwenhwyfar's breast, and through her body, into Gareth's stomach, and through his body the end of the sword hit and penetrated a bit into the hard stone wall. All that was visible of the blade was the end of it; Lancelet was holding the hilt, which laid on Gwenhwyfar, no shining blade visible between her body and the hilt of Gawaine's bloody sword.

There were crimson stains on Gwenhwyfar's fine gown, and blood ran from her lips, dripping from her chin. Lancelet stared in shock and horror of what he had done, trembling hands leaving the hilt of the sword, and sank down to his knees, shaking, and staring at the scene he created.

"Gareth!" Mordred's cry was loud and clear and he ran as fast he could with his injury towards his foster brother. He ruthlessly pulled the sword from the two bodies, and held onto Gareth's lifeless self and wept. Gwenhwyfar's corpse fell, and her head landed on Lancelet's lap.

"Gareth! Gareth! No you must not leave me!" Mordred's wailing was terrible and mournful, and he sobbed wildly into his greatest friend's chest, clutching at the shirt covering the cold, dead lifeless body of Gareth.

Lancelet continued to stare at where he had be staring at before, which was now the scene of Mordred crying uncontrollably, screaming over Gareth; he was faintly aware of Gwenhwyfar on his lap, and with still shaking hands, touched her fair hair slowly, softly. And then Lancelet found himself again, found his angry soul, which hungered for vengeance over the death of his beloved queen…

Lancelet howled like a wolf, and the ring of the chilly sound was heard throughout the castle.

Moments later, hurried footsteps were audible in the hall, and the door to Gwenhwyfar's bedchamber were flung open and in entered first a handful of Gwenhwyfar's maidens and then Arthur accompanied by a few sleepy knights.

The maidens paled and screamed and shrieked at the sight of the massacre and three of them fainted on the spot while the ones left standing leaned against the wall and one another for support. Two of them looked ready to vomit.

Arthur entered the room. "What is all this noise about my good knights? Why are you all…" The King's voice faltered as he surveyed the room, stunned at what he saw before his eyes. His traveling eyes lay on Gwenhwyfar and Gareth and his mouth opened a little. Then he swallowed.

Mordred, hearing the sound of his father's voice, raised his head and look up from Gareth's dead body. His sobs quieted, but his breathing was still irregular. He turned his head and his wild eyes caught sight of the High King, the King Stag whom the Young Stag must prevail against…

Father and son stared at each other. Arthur had never seen so much despise and bitterness in Mordred's dark eyes. "M-My son," stammered Arthur, "What…what h-has happened?" He turned to Lancelet as Mordred stared on in hatred. "Lancelet, Lancelet! My dearest kinsman, what has befallen my queen?" Arthur looked at Gwenhwyfar in Lancelet's lap, yet he could still feel Mordred's glare burning into him.

"She betrayed you, for Lancelet!" said Mordred, loud and clear, angry tears still flowing from his burning eyes. "You must banish him, or kill him now for committing treason against you father! Otherwise your honor will be forfeit."

Arthur looked on, and his face was sad. "Galahad will never die or be put to death by my hand," he said softly, "I only wish that you had been left in peace…"

Lancelet hung his face in shame. Mordred was trembling in rage. He cried, "You are a terrible ruler! How could you let such a thing happen, and leave it unpunished? You are too lenient to be High King. You are not fit for your place! Say your prayers, old man. To whom I care not, the criticizing Christian God will not save you now, nor will the Goddess of fertility, nor any other gods you may worship! Tonight, you shall die!" He rushed forward, his hand on the hilt of his sheathed sword, ready to have it pulled out quick as lightning.

"Mordred! You dare not insult my king and dearest kinsman!" shouted Lancelet, and he shoved Gwenhwyfar's lifeless body aside and charged at Mordred.

"Gwydion! Galahad! Control yourselves! There should be no more fighting in this hour! Obey me, my knights! My kinsmen!" But Arthur's proclamation was ignored, and the two knights rushed forward, Mordred's eyes intent on Arthur's life, Lancelet's aim on Mordred's. The knights who accompanied Arthur to the room stood before him to protect their king from danger. Arthur had his Excalibur drawn, shining in the dim light of the room. Mordred's bloodcurdling cry of rage rung through the castle as the knights defending Arthur were struck down with a violent and extreme force. Father and son clashed swords, and then Lancelet came and struck at Mordred, who jumped away in time, snarling at the older knight.

"Traitor!" he growled. But Lancelet said nothing, and only glared at him with angry eyes, and he fought even more fiercely than he ever did in his life. Mordred was between attacking Arthur and defending himself against Lancelet. Lancelet was set on Mordred's life, while Arthur, blocking at Mordred's thrashes, continued to shout for the battle to cease.

Arthur kept at his defense against Mordred's wild slashing and finally gave in to going on offense against his own child. He fought back, looking for openings in Mordred's agile moves, finally finding what he wanted, and thrust Excalibur into Mordred's throat…

Mordred took his chance and ducked stabbing Arthur in the stomach. Directly behind him, Lancelet stabbed Gawaine's sword straight through Mordred's upper back, but Arthur, shocked at the pain inside him, couldn't take his move back, as the control of is body was no longer in his hands, and slashed deeply down Lancelet's chest.

Three screams of agony were heard from the Queen's chamber. Then all was silent in Camelot.

MORGAINE SPEAKS…

_The funeral held for Arthur, Lancelet, Gwenhwyfar, Gareth, Mordred, and the other knights killed in that night was one of great mourning in all the land. The death of the High King, the High Queen, and many of the High King's Companions, one of which was a kinsman and best friend and also his captain of horse and the Queen's Champion, another who was cousin to the King, and another who was not only the King's heir to the throne but also his son by his half sister, was a great tragedy. I went. I traveled far from Avalon all the way to Camelot to see my dear little brother be buried, to see the son I've never known set into the ground of which all life came about. I came to see the little nephew of mine whose wooden toy soldiers I carved, and the son of my foster mother, my cousin, my lover, and my good friend. I guess I came also for Gwenhwyfar; the woman who took Lancelet from me, who took Arthur from me, and in a way took even my only son from me too. I stood quietly out in the courtyard, among Gwenhwyfar's weeping ladies of the court; I am still the High King's sister and so I deserve a spot among the court in his funeral. And even if I were not Arthur's kinswoman I would've had a place among the important people anyway, for I am the Lady of the Lake, High Priestess of Avalon, and no one would dare take me from my place for they fear the powers of the Goddess still. Despite my futile attempt to stop it, tears streamed silently down my face, and in the end, I cared not. All these people, dead before me, deserved my tears, and so I gave them generously, and they dripped from my chin to the earth where they were to be buried. All things living must return back to the fertile ground to which they have come forth. And so these five corpses before me shall do that. But their souls will live forever on, and will be reborn again and again, no matter what the Archbishop Patricius preaches. I know the Mysteries; I know of the afterlife; I know the will of the Goddess. _

_They were put into the earth behind the church, and I didn't argue anything. Viviane, a High Priestess like myself, was buried at the Glastonbury church. If a Lady of the Lake, a great, powerful, and strong priestess of the Goddess, can handle church bells as she lay in the ground, so could my brothers and my sister. _

_I bent my head and whispered a prayer to them. May the Goddess be kind and gentle to them in their next life. _


End file.
